


transcendent.

by Icanwritesee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fake Relationship, I should give more of a fuck about their surroundings I think, M/M, and it's fun, because I needed to cheer myself up a bit, before slash, but where's the fun in that?, sort of Valentine's fluff, they get there eventually no worries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 07:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5996944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icanwritesee/pseuds/Icanwritesee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock asks John for a favour the good doctor doesn't have the heart to say no to. badassery's just a cherry on top.</p>
            </blockquote>





	transcendent.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to cheer myself up and thought that this one could be a little present for all of you. happy Valentine's Day to you, dear ones. I love you.  
> enjoy your stay.

Sherlock kept observing people in the room while waiting for John to come back with their drinks.

 _just left his wife for another man, who's a recovering alcoholic... John. John. John._  
  
\- that massive brain of yours is having a field day, isn't it? - John handed him some heavily diluted scotch that tasted even worse than it looked. Sherlock only nodded, flicking his eyes to the doctor.

_no use of deducing for now, not when we're here and he looks... like that._

\- this is going to be nightmare - John sighed wearily, visibly squaring his shoulders.  
\- yes, I suppose it is. good thing I brought my doctor.

*

John looked just a tad _too_ good for Sherlock's well-being. he made him wear suit that actually fitted him and costed more than all of John's world possessions, but Sherlock would never admit that. but the money didn't matter, not when it belonged to Mycroft - he has plenty of it anyway. Sherlock sent John's measurements to his tailor and the end result made his breath hitch when John Watson put it on. because now, in a suit made by a gifted tailor, John Watson was taking up the whole room - the graphite outfit gently hugged his shoulders in a flattering manner while accenting narrow waist and muscular body. he was absolutely stunning. Sherlock made sure to engrave that image on the walls of his mind palace to have something to return to when all this will come to an end in approximately 2 hours and 45 minutes.

being wrapped up in his thoughts, Sherlock didn't hear what John has said until he nudged him.  
\- what do you want?  
John rolled his eyes.  
\- I asked if you were ready.  
Sherlock mentally prepared himself one more time.  
\- as ready as I'll ever be, I presume...  
Sherlock could feel John's fingers interlacing with his, and would swear on anything that gesture alone lightened up something inside of him.  
\- okay?  
\- yes, John.  
\- good. shall we?  
  
*  
  
it proved to be easier than he imagined. _being_ there with John because he was no longer alone and surrounded by people who always hated him. this time, he came with friend that immediately said yes when Sherlock asked him to pretend to be his date for one evening.  
he could _feel_ the buzzing of crowd's curiosity when they crossed the hall of his uni. some of them ogled John, but he wasn't surprised at all. instead, he did his best to adopt the face of possessive boyfriend; which wasn't very hard to do, especially if he felt _very_ possessive of John anyway.  
\- you're crushing my fingers, Sherlock.  
\- oh! sorry!  
\- no worries. just... relax. find your happy place. it's just a small party, nothing we haven't done hundreds of times before.  
\- yes, but all those times before didn't involve the _real_ me, John...  
\- point made.  
Sherlock sighed, feeling himself partially loosening up. it was okay, at least so far.  
\- fancy another drink? - he asked, not sure if he was that enthusiastic to the prospect of letting go of John's hand.  
\- yes, please. I feel like I would need serious alcohol to stand all this old money.  
\- oh, you've no idea. come, let's get our liquid courage.  
he pulled John towards the main table, where mousy barmaid served fancy cocktails.  
\- what can I do for you, gentlemen? - she asked in a voice that reminded him of Molly Hooper.  
\- two whiskeys and without that nonsense you've poured us earlier. neat. I'm sure you understand the term...  
barmaid swallowed uncomfortably.  
\- Sherlock...  
\- just... give us whiskey, will you?  
\- I'm sorry about my boyfriend, he's not very good with... people - John effortlessly accustomed his everyday air of apologizing for Sherlock's behaviour. - I usually throw a fit when he's like that.  
the girl smiled brightly at his politeness.  
  
_disgusting. now she looks like she just lost all the remains of her funny little brain.  
_  
she opened her mouth to say something probably flirty, but was interrupted with another, much more unpleasant voice:  
\- look who we got here, Seb. it's our favourite peer, Shercock Hopeless.  
John's hand holding his clenched painfully at that obnoxious comment.  
\- Victor.  
Victor Trevor smiled that smile that once made Sherlock weak in the knees, but now he felt a bit sick. both him and his uni bestie, Seb Wilkes, looked like a pair of ghosts - Sherlock noted with satisfaction that Seb's wife left him for a younger man, and Victor was certainly addicted to online porn. both of the ghosts assessed him and John.  
\- look, Shercock brought his boyfriend. isn't it adorable?  
Sherlock squeezed John's hand, trying to communicate without words. _I can take it._  
John only shook his head while using his angry smile. Sherlock knew he was a hair away from beating the shit out of them.  
\- darling, you haven't introduced me your friends! - John pouted a little, perfectly acting as a jealous boyfriend.  
\- I'm sorry, love. please, meet Seb Wilkes and Victor Trevor.  
John spared both of them wave of his left hand.  
\- John Watson. would shake your hands, but have a terrible case of fungal infection and wouldn't want to share it with any of you precious personas...  
Victor smirked, looking at John condescendly. John pulled Sherlock towards himself enough to whisper:  
\- I swear I'm going to murder these shits and hide their bodies where no one will ever find them...  
\- please don't. I would have to pretend to be looking for you.  
John nodded, seeing his point of view.  
\- make our excuses before I snap, Sherlock.  
Sherlock cleared his throat.  
\- sorry, but we've got to dash, Victor...  
Victor was obviously having none of that because he stopped Sherlock's attempt to leave by catching his arm.  
\- where are you going, Shercock? we've a lot to catch up!  
\- let go of me, Victor.  
\- we'll have fun together, you can even take him - Victor smiled. - I don't mind...  
John slipped from his hold. he was visibly shaking, cracking with electric energy.  
\- let.him.go.  
Seb laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.  
\- I like this one, he's got...  
Sherlock never found out what Victor had to say because inside John the dam of his self-control just broke and he lunged himself at Trevor. Victor was too surprised to maintain his hold of Sherlock; John's momentum threw him off a few steps, but that was enough time for John's soldier instincts to kick in - before anyone noticed that anything happened, Trevor was nursing his broken nose and Wilkes was sporting impressive bruise on his right eye.  
\- in case that wasn't already clear, I'll repeat the message just for you, you bloody wankers - stay the fuck away from that man because you don't deserve to breathe the same air as he does.  
with that, he once more took Sherlock's hand and tugged him away.  
  
*  
  
\- you okay?  
\- fine.

as soon as John closed the door to their flat, Sherlock attacked his mouth, aiming at not wasting any more second that was absolutely necessary.

\- what are you doing, Sherlock?  
\- I'm taking you to bed, John Watson, where I'll make love to you all night long to let you know precisely how much you mean to me. I intend to envelop you in my smell, my taste and my voice until _I_ invade every sober thought that will remain in your mind. I'll whisper to your skin every reason that makes you perfect and beautiful and I won't care about tomorrow because we've got all night...  
\- oh, my God...  
\- so, what do you think, John? will you let me?  
\- oh God, yes!

 


End file.
